


Day 7 - Carrying (5.2)

by fanfictiongreenirises



Series: Whumptober 2020 [7]
Category: DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Anxiety, Carrying, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Paranoia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26871982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanfictiongreenirises/pseuds/fanfictiongreenirises
Summary: Follow up to Day 5: Bruce finds Dick in the phonebooth.No 7. I’VE GOT YOUSupport |Carrying| Enemy to Caretaker
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Series: Whumptober 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947217
Comments: 25
Kudos: 182





	Day 7 - Carrying (5.2)

**Author's Note:**

> choosing to name these fics after the day and prompt was possibly the best decision i've made all month lol
> 
> thank you to everyone reading!!! i hope this answers some of the questions you had after Day 5. I would probably recommend reading [Day 5](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26831878) before this, but it's not necessary.
> 
> Warnings: paranoia, implied non-con drug use, anxiety, references to torture
> 
> Disclaimer: dc <(^_^<) isn't <(^_^)> mine (>^_^)>

THIS FANFICTION IS HOSTED ON **ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN** , WHERE YOU CAN READ IT FOR **FREE**. IF YOU’RE READING THIS ON A DIFFERENT WEBSITE, IT WAS POSTED THERE **WITHOUT** THE AUTHOR’S CONSENT.

Dick had been missing for three days. He’d disappeared from patrol one night, without a trace. It had evidently been a professional hit; they’d all gotten to work at the last location Nightwing had been seen, looking for clues, for _anything_.

And now Alfred had called to say that _Dick_ had called the Manor.

Bruce didn’t know what sort of condition he’d find Nightwing in. He hadn’t told the rest of the team, firstly because he didn’t want to raise hopes if it turned out to be a hoax or a trap, and secondly because no one else was as close to the phonebooth as Bruce was.

This was a richer area of Gotham, which was strange. He’d expected the other side of the city, someplace where no one would blink twice at bodies in dark alleys.

It was almost dawn when Bruce arrived. He’d been almost ready to head back to the Cave when Alfred had contacted him; getting to the phonebooth had taken fifteen minutes even with the amount of speeding Bruce had done, atop the usual.

He got out of the Batmobile and hurried over to the booth, bracing himself for what would be inside. If there was anything still in there, at all.

But when Bruce opened the door, there was just Nightwing, curled up into a tight ball with his grip on the payphone tight enough to make even Bruce wince. His breathing was the first thing that Bruce noticed – he’d rarely heard it this loud, this harsh. It was his breathing that made Bruce falter, pausing before he came barging in with his questions.

Instead, Bruce crouched down.

“Nightwing,” he said softly. “Can you look at me?”

Dick’s head jerked up, muscles tensing beneath him. Bruce knew, without any doubt, that if he were to touch Dick at that moment, he would have to face the entirety of Nightwing’s skills with absolutely none of Dick’s restraint.

“Nightwing,” he said again. “It’s me. It’s Batman. You’re safe now.”

Dick was now noticeably breathing in a pattern, doing as deep breaths as he could. His hand clenched and unclenched around the phone. “Batman,” he got out. “I… I was on the phone with A. He sent you?”

Bruce nodded. “Yes. I came as fast as I could. We can head home now.”

Dick glanced around the phonebooth. “I don’t… the rooftops?”

“I have the Batmobile waiting outside,” Bruce told him.

He didn’t move a muscle, but he made sure he wasn’t tense. This part of crime fighting was probably the most difficult – calming down the skittish victims. It was just harder to maintain an objective perspective when it was one of his own.

“Alright,” Dick said, more to himself than to Bruce. He then inhaled in three large puffs, like he was hyping himself up for something. “Okay, I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Are there any injuries I should know about?”

Dick shook his head, and Bruce longed to get that mask off so he could see Dick’s pupils. There was definitely something affecting him, but there was no way to tell right now. His first priority was getting Dick back home safely. In this state, he looked like he was ready to bolt at any moment.

Bruce stood up slowly, and made sure there was enough space in the doorway so that Dick wouldn’t feel trapped inside. Dick scrabbled with the side of the booth to get up, clawing at it but refusing to turn around to better hoist himself up. He shakily placed the phone back in the holder, murmuring a goodbye to Alfred.

Bruce stepped clear of the booth as Dick emerged. He took his hand off the phonebooth and had taken half a step when he stumbled, wobbling like Bruce had never seen him. Dick without balance was… practically unheard of.

It was pure instinct that made Bruce grab his arm to steady him, but that set Dick jerking away in the opposite direction, skittish as a colt. He jumped back, hitting the lamppost.

His breathing was coming harsher now, something Bruce hadn’t thought possible. He could practically _hear_ Dick’s heartbeat.

“I’m sorry,” he said, arms up and displayed, maintaining his distance. “Breathe with me. In… and out…”

Bruce continued with that for a minute. Already, he could see the sun’s first rays reflected on the building they were standing at the base of. Another ten minutes or so, and the glare would be piercingly bright. The earliest of workers would begin emerging, joggers stretching before they began their morning routine.

When Dick had calmed back down to roughly the same state that Bruce had found him in, Bruce spoke again.

“Is it alright if I help you to the car?” he asked, still with his hands where Dick could see them.

Dick nodded, his body twitching unnaturally as he did so. They couldn’t head back to the Cave soon enough.

Bruce made sure to telegraph his movements as he stepped closer to Dick. As he did, Dick moved away from the lamppost and accepted the arm around his waist. Bruce gripped tight once he was certain that Dick wouldn’t leap away. He automatically went to hold the utility belt, but it wasn’t there.

The Nightwing costume had barely anything to hold onto, and Bruce didn’t know what sort of injuries there may be hidden underneath.

“Can you put your arm around my shoulders?” he asked, already leaning down slightly.

With a small grimace, Dick did so. It didn’t seem to be a wince from broken bones – perhaps stiff muscles? Bruce held onto his wrist, the other arm holding Dick in place around his waist. Was it his imagination, or did Dick seem lighter than before?

They walked to the car, Dick shuddering slightly in Bruce’s hold. Bruce was practically carrying him by the time they got to the Batmobile.

The doors opened, and Dick went tense in his arms.

“It’s alright,” Bruce said, his voice rumbling as he struggled to find the balance between a restrictive grip and too relaxed a hold. “We’re almost home. I’m going to put you in the passenger seat now—”

“You don’t have to baby me, B,” Dick rasped. “I’m just… There’s something in me. Drugged, maybe.”

Bruce grunted. “We’ll test your bloodwork when we get back. And I’m not babying you,” he defended. But would it really be his fault if he were? Dick had been missing for three days, after all. A lot could happen in that time.

Bruce placed him in the Batmobile and hurried around to the other side, getting in setting the vehicle to autopilot. When they were in motion, he turned to Dick.

Both of his legs were jittering, causing the entire Batmobile to shake, and he had his hands clamped tightly between his thighs. Dick’s shoulders were drawn inward tightly, his chest barely moving with how shallow his breaths were. All in all, it looked like he was a tightly wound up toy, about to spring into motion at any second if so required.

“Can I take your mask off?” Bruce said.

He waited for Dick’s gaze to turn to him, for the sharp nod, before he reached into one of his pouches for a sachet with the solution to remove the adhesive. Telegraphing his movements, he reached out and started from one corner of Dick’s face.

Dick’s eyes were screwed tightly shut. Bruce didn’t know whether that was as a reaction to the increased light, to him removing the mask, or if he’d been like that on and off ever the entire time Bruce had been there.

“Open your eyes for me?” Bruce said. “I need to check your pupils—”

He barely held back a harsh intake of breath at the sight of Dick’s bloodred eyes. It looked like he’d been kept awake the entire time, on top of perhaps not being allowed to blink.

“Okay, you can keep them closed now,” Bruce told him, watching as Dick sank back into the seat. “I’m going to take a blood sample. It’s going to—”

“If you say it’s going to pinch, I’ll punch you, I swear.”

Bruce grunted, not responding to him. But that didn’t telegraph just how relieved he felt to be hearing Dick speak as though everything was normal, when his body language gave off the exact opposite.

He filled up a syringe with blood and placed it in the Batmobile’s system so the analysis could be transferred to the Batcomputer by the time they arrived. Then, he placed a finger on Dick’s pulse, and willed the vehicle to drive faster.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!! 
> 
> This is also [cross-posted on tumblr](https://fanfictiongreenirises.tumblr.com/post/631294751927320576/day-7-carrying-52)


End file.
